


Sherlock and Watson

by copperbadge



Series: The Midnight Theatre [5]
Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Bickering, Gen, Watsons always look after Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:56:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperbadge/pseuds/copperbadge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson chivvies Sherlock Holmes out of his rooms, <i>again.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock and Watson

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this photograph](http://25.media.tumblr.com/d932cfbe540284a5f22ed72758d05959/tumblr_mwhnarwpFW1rsus6so1_500.png) and RDJ's caption of it.

**romantic-chamber-of-the-heart:** Now I can’t stop picturing this version of Holmes  & Watson. Like the Mary Russell books but with John and Mary’s daughter who just gets called “Watson Jr.” all the time.

Watson came into the suite of rooms at 221B Baker Street like a ray of sunlight: blinding, cruel, and illuminating things best left hidden. Sherlock Holmes, asleep on the divan, startled awake at the bang of the door and fell to the ground.

"You know," Watson said, collecting up stray piles of paper in a ruthless march to the windows, "I would ask if you revel in filth, but I genuinely believe you simply aren’t aware of it. I suppose the keenest mind in the empire will have his blind spots."

"I have no blind spots," Holmes muttered, then yelped as the curtains were thrown back. "I have deliberately cultivated a tolerance to that which cannot be altered."

"This cannot be altered?" Watson asked, indicating an armful of newspaper clippings.

"I must have my research," Holmes said with an attempt at dignity. "I cannot be placed at fault for the poor organisation of the newspapers."

"You’ll likely die in a fire," Watson predicted.

"Nonsense, the odds of a shooting are far greater."

Watson deposited the papers on a larger heap of papers which had once been a desk, waved a handy rag to circulate a bit of fresh air, and bent to kiss his forehead as he scrambled up onto the divan.

"You mustn’t be shot; I have a wager on fire."

"Marry me," Sherlock urged, despite the horrible fresh air and the new disarray of his carefully strewn papers and the fact that he had asked Susannah Watson twenty-seven times previous and been declined.

She put a hand on her hip, cocked her head, and tapped the toe of her heeled boot against the carpet. 

"So that you have a pretty young woman to clean for you, feed you, and organise your funeral? Shan’t," she replied, throwing a shirt at him.

"Don’t be ridiculous, Junior. So that we might cohabitate in peace without scandal," he countered. 

"Why would I wish to cohabitate with you?" she asked. "God knows what you’d do to me."

"I have no interest in carnal matters," Sherlock said, drawing himself upright as he pulled the shirt on. "I should be a perfect gentleman, buy you outrageous gifts when I remembered to, and leave you all my worldly possessions when I died."

"Yes, why on earth would I avoid marriage with a man who would refuse me our wedding bed," she drawled. "You’d probably put something in my eggs at breakfast."

"Only the love of my heart," he protested.

"Then they’d be somewhat dry, don’t you think?"

"The papers would adore our marriage. Society would loathe us."

"How my father lived with you for years on end without dying or murdering you is a mystery," she said. 

"He believed it to be some form of mental illness," Sherlock informed her.

"No doubt the reason I give up my less than copious spare time to shepherd you about," Watson agreed. 

"How is your father, my dear Junior?”

"Quite enjoying Sussex, thank you." 

"And you?" he asked, with earnest interest. Only a few women had ever commanded his attention in any meaningful way: Irene Adler, Mrs. Hudson, and the daughter of John Watson. Perhaps Her Majesty the Queen, though she would come a distant fourth. 

Susannah, with her smart mouth and bluestocking ways, was most frequently described by men of Sherlock’s age (fifty-mumble, it wasn’t vanity so much as a love of privacy) as _vivacious_. Men her own age, mainly those in classes with her at the medical college, called her either captivating or brutal. Sometimes both. But as he well knew, men her age were generally fools. 

To Sherlock Holmes, Susannah Watson was a new creature, with the youth and energy of his Irregulars, the brilliant mind of his first Watson, and an independence and sagacity that were wholly her own. He adored her as he had adored her father: intellectually, sexlessly, and with every ounce of his being. 

Watson smiled at him. “I am well, thank you. I’ve come to chisel you out of your animal warren and take you down to the morgue. There’s a body there that you will find interesting, and I’d very much like you to shame the police over it for me, as they’ve been treating me nastily.”

He clutched his chest. “You do love me, truly! I shall destroy them in your honour. Pray give me a handkerchief of yours to tie about my arm.”

"I should as soon tie it about your throat. Come along, Holmes," she said, grasping his arm and dragging him towards the door. 

"I am yours to command, Watson. Have you your revolver?"

"Of course."

"Then we have nothing to fear," he said, stepping out into the busy London morning and raising his hand to flag a cab.

**Author's Note:**

>  **absurdical:** i would watch emma watson and RDJ and jude law and kelly reilly team up to SASS LONDON INTO A STEAMPUNK GRAVE  
>  **copperbadge:** Well, given it was 1891 when Watson and Mary were married (in Guy Ritchie canon anyhow) and Susannah is twentyish, this would be set somewhere round about 1911 or, as I like to call it, Titanicpunk.  
>  That said, there’s no reason Susannah couldn’t have been the result of John Watson’s “experience of women which extends over many nations and three separate continents” and already have been born without his knowledge by the time of the films, which could mean she was an adult soon enough to catch the tail end of the era. 
> 
> **spiderine:** "Only three women had ever commanded his attention in any meaningful way: Her Majesty the Queen, Ms. Irene Adler, and the daughter of John Watson."  
>  AHEM. I believe you forgot someone.
> 
>  


End file.
